


One Too Many

by mangochi



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, M/M, One Night Stands, Power Bottoming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2848382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangochi/pseuds/mangochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Leonard receives an unfortunate surprise after a one night stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Too Many

**Author's Note:**

> for toboldlyknow on tumblr!!

Upon further reflection, the night before the start of the fall semester was _not_ a good time to go out and get completely wasted. Leonard began contemplating this concept after the third glass of something he vaguely remembered as being called a Shooting Star, the pale blue liquid fizzing pleasantly down his throat and sitting in his chest and stomach.

 _Brilliant plan, Len_ , he told himself as the deep thumping beats of the club music resonated through his skin, his very bones. To be honest, he had no idea why he was here in the first place when he's so clearly out of his element and nobody here would give him the time of day. He didn’t even know if he wanted someone to.

He ordered another Shooting Star and considered how much fun he wasn’t having. Maybe he should leave after this, he thought gloomily, watching the bartender slide the drink in front of him. Go back and lock himself in his apartment with Tribble for yet another night. Hell, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done the same thing for the past two hundred and sixty-four days— and that right there, he thought abruptly, was why he needed to get out more often.

“Hey." The voice was low, pleasant, and Leonard was half-turning before he could think better of it. _Could be worse,_ he decided, eyeing the man before him. Tall. Leonard liked tall. Dark hair, easy smile, nice shoulders. The Shooting Star in his system approved, and Leonard had half a mind to finally let the damnable drink have its way.

“Hey yourself," he said, then winced into his glass, resisting the urge to comb a hand through his hair. A nervous habit, Joce had told him once, before attempting to curb him of it; it had worked just as well as their attempts at keeping their marriage together. And _God,_ that was not a road he needed to go down tonight. "Sorry, that was— I'm not very... you want one?" he finished pathetically, lifting the remains of his drink in uncertain offering.

The guy looked at the drink, back at Leonard. “Sure,” he answered casually, and shrugged, a jerky, distinctively young gesture that nearly had Leonard slamming his head into the counter. What the _fuck_ was he doing at a place like this? "If you're buying," the guy added, sliding into the stool beside Leonard's.

Leonard touched his pocket automatically, then remembered at the last second that you weren't supposed to touch your wallet at a place like this. "Depends on what you're offering," said the goddamn Shooting Star, right out of his traitor mouth. Jesus Christ, the guy couldn't be older than twenty-two—

The kid looked him over again, and the next time he smiled, Leonard didn't like the look of it at all. _Shit, shit, shit_.  "Sure," the guy said again, slower this time, and Leonard was easing off the stool before he could talk himself into staying.

"You know what," he said nervously, fumbling with his wallet and sliding a couple twenties onto the counter beneath his glass. "I just thought of somewhere I need to be." _Please drop it— oh God_.

"What's the idea, man?" the kid demanded, his pleasant smile melting away faster than the cheap ice in Leonard’s glass as he stood and fucking _loomed_. Leonard hated loomers.

"I'm not interested," Leonard told him firmly, stepping backwards and grasping blindly at the edge of the counter for support. Fuck, the guy was between him and the door, and as crowded as the place was, not a single person was going to notice what was happening.

"What the fuck, man? You seemed pretty damn interested two seconds ago." The guy stepped forward; Leonard backed up again. "So what's it gonna be, huh? Your place or mine?"

"Go to hell," Leonard told him earnestly. The last thing he needed, he thought, suddenly enraged, was some horny punk trying to have his way with him in some dingy club. "I'm outta here." Like he should've been three sparkly blue drinks ago.

"Yeah?" The kid smirked at him, and Leonard felt the back of his heels hit the wall just as the guy leaned forward to cage him in with an arm. "Yeah, I don't think so."

Leonard stared up at him, torn between the dual urges to sock him in the jaw or knee him in the groin, and he's saved from having to make the decision by a hand knocking the guy's arm away.

"Hey, man, there you are!"

Leonard blinked at the newcomer, a guy with a tight T-shirt and blond hair and a stupid-ass smile plastered across his face. For a moment, he thought that the shitbag had a friend and this was it, this was how Leonard McCoy was going to go down after thirty years of wasting his life.

Then, "Dude, I’ve been lookin' for you all over, come here." The guy takes Leonard's elbow and steers him firmly away from the wall. "Sorry," he said to the first guy, whom Leonard’s already dubbed as Shitbag of the Goddamn Century. "Jack here's my buddy, see? Jack, hey, wasn't I supposed to be meeting you at the door? The hell you doing at the bar, huh?" His tone was light, casual, and Leonard knew instinctively that he should play along, but fuck him if he couldn't remember how to make actual words.

"Yeah," he thought he heard himself say faintly. "Yeah, sorry, I, uh. Didn't see you, so I came on in."

"He yours?" Shitbag demanded, gesturing at Leonard dismissively, and Leonard began to bristle automatically at the implication before the hand on his elbow stopped him with a warning squeeze.

"Yeah," the blond man said, his tone steeling ever so slightly. "And I don't appreciate someone else moving in."

"Just trying to help a guy out," Shitbag said, shrugging carelessly. "If you’d kept a better eye on him, it wouldn't have been a problem, y’know?"

The newcomer stared evenly at the guy until he began to shift uncomfortably. "Thanks for the tip," he said flatly, before wheeling Leonard around and marching him away. It took a few seconds for Leonard to realize that they were headed deeper into the club, and another moment to register that the man wasn't letting go.

He wrenched his arm away firmly, stepping back to put a few feet between them. "Thanks," he said stiffly, straightening his sleeve and pretending he wasn't half as rattled as he was. "But I had it handled."

"Didn't look it to me." The guy pushed his hands in his pockets and contemplated Leonard. “You know, a ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

Leonard scowled, but the guy _had_ kind of saved his ass, and seriously… “You a natural blond?” he found himself saying, and was horrified for the two seconds it took before the kid snorted in surprise.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Leonard felt himself warming, his face flushing as he tried to avoid giving the kid a once-over. He failed. God, those shoulders… even nicer than Shitbag’s, broad and firm beneath the black shirt, sculpted to his trim waist and…he jerked his eyes back up, just in time to see the flicker of a smile across the kid’s face.

“I’m Jim,” he said, holding a hand out to Leonard.

“Len,” Leonard said after a moment, shaking the kid’s hand gingerly. He had a good grip, warm palm, callused fingertips lingering on the back of Leonard’s hand.

“Len,” Jim repeated, and the way he said it made Leonard grateful for the flashing lights covering his blush. “Want to dance?”

It was possibly one of the cheesiest lines Leonard had ever heard, and he briefly considered telling Jim just that and leaving, dance be damned. But he had come here for... for _something_ , and he was going to get it, so help him God.

"Why not?" Leonard shrugged casually, as if it meant nothing, as if his fool heart wasn't stuttering the longer he looked at Jim and his stupidly blue eyes. It was the lighting, Leonard decided, even as Jim took his hand and led him onto the crowded dance floor. There was no way they were naturally that bright, or his shirt so fitted, or his hands—oh fuck.

"This your first time here?" Jim murmured, sliding his fingers down around Leonard's hips and pulling him in closer. He was taller by at least half an inch, Leonard discovered disgruntledly, and he grunted his assent, trying to ignore how good Jim smelled from this distance. Like soap, he noticed anyway. Some kinda coconut shampoo, and it was so unexpected that he found himself leaning in to press his face against the side of Jim's neck, breathing in deep.

 _Bad idea,_ he thought dizzily, feeling Jim's breath hitch beneath his lips, but the music was pounding through him, or maybe it was just his heartbeat, and Jim's hands felt good right where they were, smoothing up and down the small of Leonard's back and guiding them in a slow, droopy sway.

"You're good at this," Leonard accused, knowing how stupid it sounded even as he said it. “It’s not fair."

Jim chuckled, a quiet rumble in his chest, and the absent strokes around the base of Leonard's spine turned to something warmer, more intimate. “You’re not so bad yourself," he murmured, and paused when Leonard shuddered involuntarily. “Should I stop?”

"No," Leonard said instantly, almost before Jim finished the question. "No, don't."

And maybe he'd regret this in the morning, but as Jim finally tugged him out the back door by his hand and piled them into a cab, it seemed like the best decision he'd made all night.

............

Really, he should've expected Jim to be the pushy sort. No sooner were they through the motel room door did Leonard find himself shoved back against it, Jim's mouth eagerly latching onto his neck, his jaw, dragging across Leonard's stubble to finally reach his lips.

"Whoa there," Leonard meant to say, or maybe "Slow the fuck down," but instead he hooked a leg around Jim's hip, grinding them back against the door, and moaned when Jim bit his lip before licking into Leonard’s mouth like he owned it.

“Bed," Leonard rasped, before he came right there in his pants like a teenager, and Jim pulled back a couple inches to stare at him wildly, looking as dazed as Leonard felt.

"Y-Yeah," he finally said, fisting his hands in Leonard's shirt and walking backwards towards the hideous floral structure in the center of the room. " _Yeah_.”

Somehow he managed to twist them as they fell, landing with Leonard on the bottom, and he probably should've minded a whole lot more, especially when Jim tore his shirt open at the cost of more than a few buttons.

"Sorry," Jim said unrepentantly, before bending a head to lick at Leonard's collarbone, and any protests died right then and there when Jim's knee shifted up to press between Leonard's legs.

“Oh fuck,” Leonard panted, fumbling down between them to reach for the hem of Jim’s shirt, pulling it halfway up his back before Jim distracted him by unzipping Leonard’s jeans.

“Can I suck you?” Jim asked breathlessly, his hair mussed and T-shirt rucked up over his stomach, kneeling between Leonard’s legs like he’d been there a hundred times before. “I need, Len, I need—”

“Yes,” Leonard gasped, before Jim tugged his jeans off his hips, yanking them down his legs and somehow Leonard had already managed to get his shoes off without even realizing.

“Fuck,” Jim said, staring down at him, and then his mouth closed hot and wet around the head of Leonard’s cock, nuzzling at him through his underwear.

Leonard clutched at the sheets to keep himself from grabbing Jim’s head, his cock twitching and jumping hopefully as Jim licked and slurped obscenely, and it should’ve been ridiculous, except it _wasn’t_. It wasn’t, oh God, it was the hottest thing Leonard had ever seen, Jim pulling his waistband down by his teeth and kissing the tip of Leonard’s cock before swallowing him down without a second thought.

“Oh my God,” Leonard panted at the ceiling, and he moaned embarrassingly loud when Jim reached down to roll his balls in his palm, tugging at them to pull Leonard’s cock deeper in his mouth. He could feel Jim’s tongue doing utterly unspeakable things to him, little breathy moans vibrating around the head of his cock, and he spread his legs wider, feeling absurdly proud at the strained groan from Jim.

Jim pulled off with a wet pop that would’ve had Leonard flushing if he had any blood left above his waist, replacing his mouth with his hand as he bit and kissed his way up Leonard’s stomach, rubbing his cheek against Leonard’s chest before mouthing at a nipple.

“Fuck,” Leonard moaned, his voice cracking. He felt drunk on more than cocktails, the air hot and thick and growing harder to breathe by the second. Jim’s mouth was good, so good, his hand just the right side of rough as he thumbed at the head and swiped at the wetness dripping from his slit. “ _Jim_.”

Jim hummed against his chest in response, licking at his nipple one last time before sliding back down to wrap his lips around Leonard’s cock once more.

It didn’t take long before Leonard was bucking upwards, digging his heels into the mattress and rocking clumsily into the eager heat of Jim’s mouth. “Oh God,” he gasped, his vision flickering, and it felt so good that it _hurt_. “Oh God, Jim, I’m gonna—”

All Jim did in response was to glance up at him and suck harder, his knuckles pressing up behind Leonard’s balls, and then he came in a fierce rush of pleasure, spilling into Jim’s throat and leaving him breathless and shaking. He whimpered when he felt Jim swallow around him, working out a last feeble spurt before it became too much, and he pushed helplessly at Jim’s head. “Jim. Jim, I can’t.”

“Fuck,” Jim grated as he pulled off, his tongue swiping at a sticky strand dripping from his lip, and he kissed Leonard’s still trembling thigh, trailing a crooked path of kisses up to his hip. His shoulder was moving oddly, and Leonard realized he was jerking himself off, and _no_ , that was not right, Leonard’s ma raised him to be a better gentleman than that—

He didn’t realize he was saying this aloud until Jim snorted and muffled his laughter against Leonard’s hip, his hand still moving beneath him.

“Come here, you,” Leonard huffed, dragging Jim up and rolling them over on their sides. Jim was still half-dressed, and that right there was a tragedy in itself. Leonard shoved a hand up under his shirt, feeling hot, damp skin tensing beneath his palm, and reached down with the other to cover Jim’s sticky fingers with his own, feeling Jim’s cock jump in his hand.

It’d been too long since Leonard had held a cock other than his own, and he took a second to explore the heavy length, stroking slowly down the shaft and wrenching a strangled groan from Jim. “Len, fuck, faster.”

“All right, okay, here.” Leonard yanked at the back of Jim’s jeans, freeing his cock further, his breath catching when Jim thrust desperately into his palm, butting his head forward to kiss Leonard again.  

“ _Len_ ,” Jim moaned once, his fingers digging into Leonard’s shoulder, and he came with a jerky thrust, dripping over their fingers and soaking into the sheets between them. “Oh fuck, oh fuck…”

Leonard’s cock twitched halfheartedly against his thigh at the sight of Jim winding down, his eyes wide and his lips parted as he stroked himself to finish with shaking hands. On impulse, Leonard caught his wrist and kissed his palm, licking at come-stained fingers.

Beside him, Jim made a choking sound, and he rolled over to stretch out on top of Leonard, pulling his fingers away to replace them with his mouth. “You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered hoarsely, running his sticky palms over Leonard’s cheeks— and Leonard couldn’t care less about the mess.

“Mmm,” he acknowledged groggily, letting his eyes fall shut. He could feel Jim’s breath, slowing and steadying against his chin, and he’d get up in a few seconds and let himself out, go home to his cramped apartment and feed the cat and possibly take not just one, but three cold showers.

In a few minutes, he would, he was certain of it.

............

Leonard woke fuzzily, rising slowly out of a pleasant fog that quickly manifested into a spiking headache the second he cracked his eyes open. He groaned pitifully, shifting to try and wiggle away from the piercing sunlight, only to realize he wasn’t in his own bed.

“What the—” Headache be damned, he sat upright and stared around himself in shock, noticing his underwear hanging on the bedpost with horror. “What the _hell_.” He was alone in some cheap motel room, the carpet scuffed up and suspiciously stained in several areas, the ceiling low and sagging by the door and a distinct smell of mothballs in the air.

And like a tsunami, his recollections of the night before slammed him upside the head and sent him reeling. The club, the Shooting Stars, the shitbag and then _Jim_ —

His phone buzzed and bounced on the nightstand, and he grabbed it desperately, hoping for some stroke of sanity left in his life. Instead, he was confronted by several missed alarms and one extremely unfortunate time.

“ _Fuck_.”

............

It was fourteen minutes past the start of class by the time Leonard skidded into the lecture hall, wheezing and red in the face from sprinting up the stairs, and the few students who had begun to pack up hopefully sat down again in disappointment at his entrance.

“Morning,” he managed, loosening his collar with one hand and hoping he didn’t look as if he jumped out of bed in the same clothes as he wore to a club the night before and promptly had the best fuck of his life in. And they hadn’t even gotten to the actual fucking part, yet. He shook his head hard, horrified at his own lack of focus, and slapped the class roll onto the lectern. His throat was dry when he tried to clear it, and he coughed hard once or twice before reaching in his jacket pocket, shaking out a pair of glasses and sliding them into place.

“I’m Dr. McCoy,” he said, giving the half-full lecture hall a scant glance before looking down again. “May God have mercy on your souls.” He got a few uncertain titters at that, a couple students near the front laughing a bit too loud, and he winced surreptitiously at the spike of pain behind his temples. “Raise your hand for your last name. Allen.”

“Here, sir.”

“Ambrose.”

“Here.”

And on it went, Leonard barely looking at each hand before moving on to the next name.

“Kirk?”

“Over here.”

Leonard nodded absently, then froze. _No_. He looked up slowly, glimpsing the raised hand just as its owner in the front row began to lower it, face softening in a familiar, wry smirk.

“Jim Kirk?” Leonard croaked disbelievingly, and Jim dipped his chin in a nod of acknowledgment.

“Yes, sir,” the cheeky bastard had the nerve to say, and Leonard swallowed hard, looking quickly back down at the roll before he could lose all composure.

“L-Lennon,” he muttered, trying to keep his panic hidden. Oh God, he’d slept with a _student_. It wasn’t strictly against regulations, per se, and as far as he knew, Jim was legal, but _fuck_ , this was _not_ what he fucking needed right now—

He managed to stumble through the next twenty minutes, handing out syllabi and stabbing a few reading assignments out on the board before turning the class loose. Thank God it was only the first day; he had no idea how he'd be able to make it through an entire two hours knowing Jim was sitting right there, watching him, looking up and seeing the mouth that'd kissed him and sucked his brains out just last night.

Leonard was the first out the door, tucking his briefcase beneath his arm and keeping his head down before the first student could so much as unzip their backpack. He had to get out of here, had to get somewhere where he could be alone and attempt to put his life back together.

Life, he concluded a second later when a hand fell upon his shoulder, had a shitty sense of timing.

“Hey,” Jim said, trotting to catch up. “So it really is you, huh? Y’know, wouldn’t have thought you’d be the teaching type. I mean—”

“Not here,” Leonard snapped, ducking aside from under Jim’s hand. “Possibly nowhere.”

“Rude,” Jim said mildly, but he remained in step with Leonard, keeping a casual distance between them. To any outsider, Leonard supposed there was nothing wrong with this scene, nothing at all except the panic choking his every breath. “Len. Can I still call you Len?”

Leonard gritted his teeth, walking faster and despairing when Jim easily lengthened his stride. “No,” he said shortly. “No, you can’t call me that.”

“Dr. McCoy, then,” Jim continued smoothly, and God, Leonard shouldn’t have thought that was hot. “Look, I just want to talk.”

"Yeah, well, you did a whole lot more than just _talk_ last night,” Leonard muttered. He was almost at his office, a glowing beacon of hope at the far end of the hall, and he sped up determinedly.

"You did, too,” Jim pointed out, and Leonard felt himself flushing. _No, no, this couldn’t be fucking happening_. “Will you, will you just _hold on—_ ”

" _Sir_ ,” Leonard snapped, his hand on his office door. “I'm still your professor, Kirk."

Jim’s eyebrows shot up, his lips twitching. “Kinky.”

“You—” Leonard started, his voice strangled, then grunted sourly and squeezed into his office, slamming the door before Jim could say another word.

The first text came half an hour later, while Leonard was hunched over his computer, jabbing vindictively at the keys and determinedly _not_ thinking about what had just occurred. He glanced at his phone screen distractedly before returning his attention to the faculty email, then suffered a minor heart attack when he finally registered what he had seen.

“God _dammit_ ,” he swore, grabbing his phone and staring helplessly at the message. The kid must’ve left his number last night, and Leonard resolved to double-check his wallet as soon as possible.

**/Can we meet?/**

Three small words, three innocuously simple words and Leonard wanted to throw his phone out the window. He didn’t _do_ things like this, didn’t do relationships that could put his tenure at risk— didn’t do relationships at _all_ after the implosion of his last.

He turned his phone over and pushed his glasses up over his forehead, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes and sighing heavily. There was no good reason for Jim to be contacting him, he decided. A guy like that... there’s no way he has any shortage of available booty calls. And fuck, Leonard shouldn’t even be _thinking_ about him, other than worrying about whether or not the kid is going to destroy everything he’s worked his whole life to obtain.

His phone buzzed again and Leonard stared apprehensively at the back of his phone before turning it over again slowly.

**/Just to talk./**

There was no such thing as “just talking,” Leonard thought wildly. He couldn’t do this, there was no way. His fingers hovered over the reply bar, trembling slightly, before he thumbed his ringer off instead and dropped his phone in his bag.

............

That night, he dreamed of large hands and a hot tongue, electric blue eyes piercing him through as sharp teeth scraped a trail of stinging pleasure through his body, and he woke with a cold sweat and sticky boxers.

 _No_ , he thought adamantly, scrubbing his hands over his face in horror, his heart still racing and his cock still somehow hard. _No, no, fuck no._

The worst part, he thought, was that all he wanted to do was to dream it all over again.

............

Open office hours, Leonard decided, were a crime and a travesty. He was trapped behind his desk when the knock came, and he _knew_ it couldn’t possibly be anyone else. Maybe if he was quiet, he thought wildly—

But then the door cracked open, and Jim peered inside. “Hi.”

“No,” Leonard said instantly, beginning to rise from his seat. “Are you _crazy_ —”

“You wear glasses,” Jim blurted. “I didn’t know that.”

“I—yeah,” Leonard answered instinctively, then scowled again once he remembered himself. “What the hell do you want?”

“I’m just here as a student, man,” Jim swiftly countered, holding a textbook in front of him like a shield. “That’s all. Promise.”

Leonard stared at him for a long, uncertain moment, and sat down again slowly, fingers tapping on his desk nervously. “Really.”

“Just some questions about the reading, L—ah. Dr. McCoy.” The slip was obvious enough to be deliberate, and Leonard scowled as Jim slipped in and closed the door behind him, the quiet click driving his heart rate up another few notches.

“Have a seat,” Leonard said, his voice too loud, and he cleared his throat as Jim settled down in the chair across his desk, now sitting close enough that Leonard could make up the dark curve of his eyelashes, surprisingly long for a man’s, the shadow in the hollow of his throat when he bent down to scoot his chair even closer, and the fact that he could still remember the way those hands felt on his skin—

“The first two chapters, right?” Jim asked, busily flipping through his textbook.

Leonard blinked hard, resisting the urge to slap himself across the face. “Y-Yes, Mr. Kirk, that’s correct.”

Jim glanced up at him, a flash of bright blue so fast that Leonard wasn’t completely certain he’d seen it. “Please, sir,” he said, placing just enough emphasis on the “sir” for Leonard to flush self-consciously. “It’s Jim.”

 _Oh hell_.

“Jim it is, then,” Leonard said distantly, leaning back in his seat uncomfortably. “What was your question again?”

“Um,” Jim said, blinking, and Leonard felt a dull stab of satisfaction at having caught him off guard. “I, uh.” He made a show of turning a couple of pages, and Leonard watched him with a small measure of curiosity, wondering how he was going to try and pull this off.

In the end, he went straight for the kill, which Leonard probably should’ve expected in the first place.

“You haven’t been answering my texts,” Jim said evenly, his head still bent over his textbook.

“Maybe you should’ve called,” Leonard muttered, crossing his arms and wondering why the hell they were still pretending that Jim had actually come here because he couldn’t remember the difference between the radius and the ulna. “Since you went to all the trouble of leaving your damn numbe—”

“I thought about it,” Jim said seriously, finally abandoning all pretense and pushing his text away. “I did, I picked my phone up a dozen times, but…” He shrugged. “The ring.”

“The—what?”

“Your ring.” Jim glanced down at Leonard’s hands, then back at his face, his expression inscrutable. “You weren’t wearing it that night.”

Leonard flushed, pulling his left hand down instinctively beneath the desk. He’d taken it off that night, yes, and it didn’t mean anything more than habit that he was wearing it now. It was… it was a comforting weight, one that he had become accustomed to, and the fact that Jim had noticed…

“Don’t see how it’s any of your business,” he said.

“You aren’t married,” Jim said, and it was only slightly questioning. “I checked.”

Leonard snorted, trying to cover his nervousness with bravado. “What, you Googled me? I can’t say I’m not flattered.”

“I asked the dean,” Jim said. “He told me.”

Leonard stared at him, bewildered. “You...the dean…”

“Pike and I have some history,” Jim said dismissively. “But the _point_ is, why the ring?”

Leonard could feel a headache coming on as he struggled to piece together Jim’s vague implications. “You...didn’t call me...because you wanted to know about my _ring_?”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” Jim said, his voice quiet. “With the school or—or anyone else.” He looked almost hopeful at the last bit, like a goddamn puppy, and Leonard felt himself wavering slightly.

He thumbed at his ring beneath the desk and tried to keep his expression under control. “There isn’t anyone,” he said. “Not anymore.” He kept his eyes down, because if he saw anything resembling relief in Jim’s eyes, there’d go the rest of his resolve.

Then Jim leaned forward, covering Leonard’s right hand with his left, and Leonard froze instantly, eyes fixed on their hands. “We need to talk about this.”

“No, we really don’t.”

“I’m serious. Please.” Jim squeezed slightly, and it was all Leonard could do to not gasp when Jim’s thumb skimmed across his knuckles. “Please, Len.” Fuck, he had no right to say Leonard’s name like that, soft and raspy and so damn earnest.

“Not here,” Leonard heard himself say over the pounding of his own heart. “Not now.”

Jim smiled, wide and bright, and Leonard’s stomach dropped half a foot. “I can work with that.”

............

“...the _audacity_ , I swear to God! I don’t know what the hell the kid’s thinking, but now he’s gone and gotten me to agree to meet, and Jesus, Spock, are you even listening to me?” Leonard stared across the table in exasperation at the Department Head of Natural Sciences, currently paused mid-bite with a forkful of salad suspended in the air.

“I am listening,” Spock said calmly, setting down his fork. “You have been speaking most enthusiastically.”

Leonard glowered at him and wondered, not for the first time in the few years they’ve been working together, how they were even friends in the first place. “I’m trying,” he said with difficulty, “to ask for advice.”

Spock eyed him critically, then went back to poking at his salad, efficiently separating the leafy mess into bite-sized portions. "You shouldn't be eating so much."

"Yeah?” Leonard snapped, glancing down at his sandwich defensively. “Why the hell not?"

"You have a...date this afternoon, do you not?" Spock inquired, brow wrinkling in the slightest confusion. “At a cafe. I presume Mr. Kirk intends to feed you.”

Leonard nearly flipped the table on him. "He said he wanted to _talk_. It _isn't_ a— it can't— Christ, Spock, you're not supposed to actually _encourage_ this!"

Spock raised his eyebrows, a perfectly smooth maneuver that Leonard secretly coveted, and neatly speared a lettuce leaf. “I see no problem in engaging in such a relationship if it is mutually desired by both parties.”

“It _isn’t_ ,” Leonard said vehemently, but his dream flashed all too vividly through his mind and he choked off, flustered by the workings of his own mind.

Spock’s eyebrows hovered even higher and he opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by a tactful beep. “My apologies,” he said, glancing at his phone. “I have an appointment with my TA in fifteen minutes.”

Leonard grunted halfheartedly, no longer hungry, and watched as Spock neatly stacked his cutlery and gathered his things. “Give Nyota my best, will you?”

“Assuredly.” Spock patted him once on the shoulder as he passed, a rare sign of solidarity, and Leonard stared grimly at his plate. _It isn’t_ , he told himself firmly, _a date_.

 _It isn’t_.

............

For someone who’d sworn up and down that this wasn’t a date of any sort, Jim had probably picked the most couple-inclined destination to meet.

Leonard was instantly assailed with gentle atmospheric crooning the moment he walked through the tinkling glass door, surrounded by warm red walls and monochromatic photographs of decidedly romantic themes, and it took all he had to not turn around and walk right back out again.

He spotted the back of Jim’s head by a window booth and hurried forward, dodging pointedly arranged tables of two, most of which were already occupied. Jim looked up at his approach, a delighted smile spreading across his face, and Leonard dropped heavily into the bench across from him, glancing around self-consciously.

“Nice place, huh, Bones?” Jim asked brightly, gesturing around them. “Found it my freshman year and never looked back.”

Leonard grunted, distracted, then blinked. “Bones?”

“You know.” Jim tilted his head as if it should be completely obvious to Leonard. “You teach A+P. So...Bones.”

“That’s stupid,” Leonard said automatically, his restraint slipping in face of his utter incredulity, and Jim beamed at him happily.

“I went ahead and ordered,” Jim said, as a waitress wandered towards them with a tray. “My treat.”

This was now both looking and sounding suspiciously like a date after all, and Leonard stared worriedly at the steaming mug of coffee set before him. “You didn’t have to.”

“Hmm? No, don’t worry about it,” Jim said airily. “Got my paycheck last week.”

“No, it’s just—” Leonard bit off the rest of his sentence before he said something he’d regret, and he shook his head, pulling his mug closer to him. “Thanks.” He didn’t drink though, and Jim must have noticed.

"Relax, Bones, we're off campus,” Jim told him, rolling his eyes. “We’re just chilling, man. That’s allowed, right?"

"It's not your career and reputation at stake here," Leonard said stiffly, glowering at the dark depths in his mug. “This isn’t… this isn’t a _game,_ you know.”

“I never thought it was,” Jim said quietly, and Leonard glanced up at him. Jim was watching him intently from across the table, eyes a darker shade of blue in the dim lighting. "You think I'd do that to you? That I'm that kinda guy?"

"I don't have a damn clue what kind of guy you are, kid,” Leonard said gruffly. “And that’s the problem.”

"So let me show you.” Jim suddenly reached out, taking Leonard’s hand between his own. It was such an unexpected move that Leonard sat there dumbly, the warmth of Jim’s fingers seeping into his skin. "Look, Bones, I-I think you’re great. I want to get to know you better. Outside of bed, I mean, not that you aren't fucking _fantastic_ in the sack, but—"

“ _Whoa_ ,” Leonard spluttered, overwhelmed, and didn’t realize that he had clapped his other hand over Jim’s mouth until Jim’s lips twitched against his palm. He jerked away, scowling, and to his astonishment, Jim ducked his head and reddened, but didn’t let go of Leonard’s hand.

“I meant what I said,” he said determinedly, despite the flush spreading down into the collar of his sweater. “Every word of it.”

Leonard stared at him a long moment, his mouth working uselessly, then groaned and covered his eyes with his free hand. “Jesus Christ, Jim.”

“Is that a yes?” Jim prompted, and Leonard glared at him from between his fingers.

“It’s.... not a no,” he said grudgingly, dragging his hand down to mumble against his palm. “ _Just_ a ‘maybe’, mind you.” He picked up his coffee then, if only to keep himself from falling into the delight in Jim’s eyes, and promptly proceeded to burn his tongue.

 _Figures_.

............

**/Dinner tomorrow?/**

The kid worked fast, Leonard had to give him that. He stared at the phone for a good long while until Tribble nudged his leg none too gently and sat on his foot.

“Sorry,” he muttered absently, bending to slide the cat’s food bowl into place, and leaned against his kitchen counter, hovering over the phone keyboard uncertainly.

 **/There’s also a movie I’ve been meaning to see/,** appeared before he could respond, which did little to sway him towards any decision.

 **//Dinner AND a movie?//,** Leonard typed back. **//Classic.//**

 **/Monty’s @ 6?/,** came nearly instantly, followed by a string of hopeful emoticons, and Leonard exhaled slowly.

 _What the hell_ , he decided, and typed back a single thumbs up before shoving his phone in his pocket, looking down in time to see Tribble knock over her food bowl.

............

The next morning, he was faced with Jim’s class once more. It was a small mercy, he thought, that Jim had decided to sit farther back that day than the first. He was turned away from the door when Leonard entered, chatting enthusiastically with the girl on his right, and Leonard felt a prickle of something… unpleasant before squashing the feeling down firmly.

 _Goddammit, Len, keep your head on_.

He kept his eyes steadily away from the center of the room as he lectured, suddenly grateful for the blinding light of the projector as he clicked through his slides. Whether Jim was watching him or the PowerPoint, he had no idea, and he didn’t want to know. Absolutely couldn’t care less.

All in all, it could’ve have been worse, he decided afterwards.

Dinner itself was a significantly less excruciating affair than Leonard had envisioned. He'd been initially surprised by Jim's choice of venue at first, but after realizing that its location was well outside the campus limits, he felt a grudging sense of admiration towards Jim’s ability to quietly circumvent any possibly awkward situations.

Monty’s had a dim pub setting that somehow managed to straddle the fine line between old-fashioned and tasteful, the owner a boisterous Scot that offered Leonard a hearty slap on the back and a coupon the second he entered. He was ten minutes early, and so he found the two of them a table well away from the bar, thinking it best to tempt fate as little as possible, considering the last time he’d drank, and made friends with the peanut bowl while waiting for Jim to show up.

It didn’t take long before a hand fell on his shoulder, lingering long enough to pass for merely friendly before Jim dropped into the seat across from him. “Hey, Bones.”

“Jim,” Leonard answered evenly. He was getting used to the nickname, he reluctantly acknowledged, and well, as far nicknames for professors went, he’d gone by a lot worse.

“You’re early.” Jim watched him for a moment, his mouth quirking in a crooked smile. “Scoping out the exits?”

“I don’t feel the need to run screaming yet,” Leonard said wryly. “The peanuts are pretty good.”

“And the company?” Jim raised his eyebrows, and that look on his face, the open hope warring with nervousness… Leonard’s heart dropped and left him in freefall.

“Better than I expected,” he answered gruffly, glancing away and focusing on cracking open another peanut.

Once their food arrived, the conversation steered itself into safer waters, tactfully avoiding any matters revolving around their university roles other than establishing Jim's major and year. An eight-year age difference, Leonard supposed afterwards, wasn't quite as scandalizing as he had originally imagined, and he felt an absurd burst of pride at Jim’s impressed expression when he realized Leonard wasn't that much older than him at all.

"Aerospace, huh?" Leonard mused, absently picking up a ketchup bottle and squiggling it over his fries. "Interesting choice." The university wasn't especially well-known for its Aerospace programs, though he'd heard passing departmental rumors of the difficulty of the courses. "How come?"

"Why here, you mean," Jim corrected wryly, watching Leonard trade out the ketchup for the mustard with some sort of morbid fascination. "My father came here."

"Your father?" Leonard shook out a liberal amount of mustard over the already ketchup-doused fries. “What does he do?”

"He's not around anymore,"Jim said, then leaned in across the table. "That looks _disgusting_ ," he informed Leonard, but his eyes were dancing. "Give me one."

Leonard snorted in surprise, but picked up a fry anyway and offered it to Jim without thinking. For a wild second, he thought that Jim was going to—but no, the kid only hesitated a beat before reaching out and plucking the fry delicately from Leonard's fingers, popping it in his mouth and grimacing in horror a second later. "Oh God. It's even worse than it looks."

"Fuck off," Leonard told him, and absolutely did not smile when Jim laughed.

Somewhere between the appetizers and the entrees, he told Jim about his divorce, how he and Jocelyn hadn't had a...falling out, exactly, but rather came to a different sort of understanding. He didn’t tell Jim this much, but he still remembered how that conversation had gone, the sympathetic way she’d looked at him and told him that she couldn’t give him what he wanted, that she didn’t know if he himself knew what he wanted, and he had looked back at her and agreed and it was shocking, really, how ten years of marriage could slide apart so easily after that.

How Joanna came to live with him for a week every month, an arrangement he hated and had fought against, but could do little about now. How he had a cat named Trouble, but renamed Tribble when two-year-old Joanna at the time couldn't pronounce the name correctly. Halfway through all this, he began to wonder why he was telling Jim any of this at all, but the kid was an unexpectedly good listener; his eyes remained fixed on Leonard's face the entire time, nodding at all the right intervals, and it wasn't until Leonard had finished did he finally notice Jim's hand on his knee, gripping firm enough to reassure without coming off as overly aggressive.

If dating was an art form, he decided, Jim Kirk had it down to perfection. This could be very bad, he mused. Or the best thing that'd ever happened to him.

............

Jim had chosen a tacky action film for the second half of their night, a third movie of some big-name franchise Leonard wasn’t particular familiar with or interested in. He supposed he ought to be grateful for the mindless entertainment, since Jim distracted him the entire time anyway.

Just thinking about Jim sitting there, bare inches away from him, had Leonard shuffling uncomfortably in his seat every few seconds, not knowing whether he wanted to pull away or lean closer. It wasn’t like… all right, he _knew_ he wanted Jim. God, how could he not? And it wasn’t—it wasn’t wrong, was it, if they were both adults, if they were careful…

But he’d heard all the stories, all the cautionary tales and whispered gossip around the faculty break room, all the headlines of people in his shoes right now who made the wrong decision and would regret it for the rest of their lives. People who probably looked back on those early days and wished they’d ended things.

He didn’t want to be them. He’d had enough of fucking his life up for an eternity, but...

Jim suddenly shifted his weight closer to Leonard’s side, their shoulders bumping together, and Leonard’s wandering attention centered instantly on the point of contact.

“Sorry,” Jim murmured, not sounding sorry at all, and settled his elbow precariously on the armrest next to Leonard’s forearm, nudging the side of his hand against Leonard’s.

Out of some fucked up sense of curiosity, Leonard didn’t move away, and a second later, Jim’s hand crept even closer until their fingers tangled loosely together. His hand was just that much larger than Leonard’s, fingers slightly thicker and blunter, and his palm slid dryly over the back of Leonard’s hand, hot and rough.

Jim shifted again, and then stroked his fingertips along the back of Leonard’s knuckles, sliding slowly in the gaps between his fingers. He kept his touch careful, teasing, pausing whenever Leonard’s breath hitched before continuing his administrations.

Leonard inhaled slowly, grateful for the darkness of the theatre, and bit back a low moan when Jim’s thumb traced circles along the side of his pinky, caressing up and down the length of his hand. God, he was going to get hard, right here in the movie theatre like a fourteen-year-old on his first date, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Except there was, and it wasn’t that he couldn’t pull away, but that the longer Jim touched him, the less he wanted to.

Jim’s grip suddenly tightened, his fingers curling around Leonard’s wrist and digging into the thin skin beneath, just as a helicopter exploded onscreen, and Leonard grunted involuntarily at the bite of Jim’s fingernails.

“Oh God,” he breathed, his pants definitely tighter now. “Jim.”

“Hmm?” Jim’s voice was a low murmur in his ear, his breath warm against Leonard’s neck. He scratched his nails across the back of Leonard’s hand, and Leonard gasped aloud just as the background music fell silent.

Several heads in the rows ahead of them turned in annoyance, and Leonard felt himself flushing even warmer, Jim shaking in silent mirth beside him. "Asshole," Leonard whispered, as soon as it was safe to do so again, and he turned his hand palm-up, encircling Jim's wrist with his fingers. "Let's go."

 _To hell with it_ , he thought brutally, and something clenched in his gut, some piece of him falling into place so quickly and easily that he wondered why the hell he hadn’t done this earlier.

He rose from his seat and Jim blinked up at him, puzzled. "Where?"

"My place," Leonard mouthed, all caution thrown to the wind, and Jim was up so quickly that his seat bounced noisily in his wake.

"Are you sure?" he muttered in Leonard's ear as they exited the theatre, and Leonard reached down to grasp Jim’s hand.

"Are you seriously asking right now?" is all he said in response, and Jim grinned.

............

Leonard was overwhelmingly aware of Jim's presence beside him as they rode up in the elevator, arms brushing blindly against each other every few seconds. Neither of them said a word as the elevator shook and grinded around them, but it was a… promising silence, one that quickened Leonard's breath and made his fingers clumsy with anticipation as he unlocked his apartment door. Keeping their hands off each other in the cab had been hard enough, and Jim’s thigh had pressed firmly against his the entire way. Now, Leonard had him _here_ , waiting patiently behind him as Leonard fumbled his key again and again. God, what the hell was he doing?

The key turned before he could talk himself out of it, and he barely had time to spare a thought towards turning on a light before Jim reached past him to turn the handle, nudging him in firmly from behind. Leonard heard the door slam shut, cutting off the light from the hallway, and then, in the darkness, Jim kissed him.

It was rough, hungry, and Leonard moaned helplessly as Jim pushed him against a wall and thrust his tongue in his mouth. It was too dark to see, too dark to do anything but _feel_ , and he did just that—Jim’s hands, skimming down his arms, his sides, pinning Leonard’s wrists against the wall by his head, the insistent nudge of his knee against Leonard’s hardening cock, his _mouth_. God, his mouth did terrible things to Leonard’s, kissing, biting, licking into his mouth like Jim wanted to crawl inside, and it was the fucking hottest thing that Leonard had ever experienced.

“God, your glasses,” Jim mumbled, his fingers moving at Leonard’s face as he plucked the frames away and pressed back in instantly.

Leonard tried to give back as good as he got, nipping hard at Jim’s lip and receiving a sharp inhale of surprise for his trouble. Leonard grinned, hidden by the shadows, and groaned delightedly when Jim surged back, pushing him harder against the wall. “Yes,” he panted, feeling Jim’s breath, his teeth, latching onto the side of his neck. “Oh fuck, yeah, like that…”

“Fuck,” Jim swore, grinding his leg up higher, and Leonard thought he might come right there. “So fucking _hot_ , Bo— _Jesus Christ_!”

Leonard lurched forward reflexively as Jim pulled away, leaving him reeling in the darkness. “Jim?”

“Holy shit, something _touched_ me—” Jim yelped again in the distance, and Leonard slapped his hand on the light switch just as something crashed to the ground.

That something was Jim, he discovered, who was now staring up at him in utter befuddlement as Tribble investigated his tangled legs. “The _fuck_.”

“Jim, meet Tribble.” Leonard nudged the cat away with a foot. “Tribble, Jim.”

“This is… this is the cat,” Jim said dumbly. “The cat you told me about.”

“Yeah.” Suddenly, this all seemed surreal to Leonard. He was standing in his hallway with a raging erection, for God’s sake, talking about his _cat_ while the guy he’d been hoping to get it on with was sprawled out on the floor at his feet. “Sorry to interrupt this stellar moment here, but uh.” He looked down pointedly at himself, then glanced at Jim, whose mouth twitched in response. He looked half-debauched already, his hair mussed and his jacket hanging off one shoulder, and Leonard was seized by the mad urge to get fucked right there in his living room.

“Gimme a hand up,” Jim said, raising his arm. “And I’ll… give you a hand, too.”

Leonard snorted, and reached down to take Jim’s hand, leaning back to haul him to his feet. Jim swung an arm around Leonard’s waist as he regained his balance, pulling him closer and pressing his lips close to Leonard’s ear. “Which way to the bedroom?” he murmured, and Leonard clutched at him to avoid dropping to his knees on the spot.

Somehow, they managed to make it to the bed without too much incident, and Leonard made sure the room was sans Tribble before closing the door. Jim laughed softly as he dragged Leonard’s shirt over his head, crowding him back against the door as he ran his hands down Leonard’s bare chest. “Wow.”

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Leonard reminded him, his heart already pounding so fast that it was getting harder to breathe.

“But I haven’t _looked_ ,” Jim insisted, tracing his thumbs over Leonard’s nipples, dragging his fingers down Leonard’s abdomen. “Jesus, Bones.”

“Is that a good Jesus or a bad one?” Leonard’s chuckle was giddy, dissipating into a sigh when Jim pulled back just enough to strip off his own shirt.

“Good,” Jim reassured him, pressing in again to kiss his forehead, his cheek, biting at his lip before licking over the sting. “More than good.” He tugged at Leonard’s belt, yanking it from the loops on his jeans, and flicked the button open. “You remember the last time?” he murmured, nuzzling at Leonard’s jaw, murmuring the words against the corner of his mouth. “When I sucked your cock? When you came in my mouth and I swallowed, and God, you tasted so good—”

Leonard whined desperately, his cock jumping at Jim’s words, his _voice_ , and thrust clumsily when Jim reached down to rub against his soaked underwear. “I normally don’t put out,” he blurts, rocking into Jim’s hand, “on the first date— _fuck_.” Jim did something evil with Leonard’s balls, and he clutched at Jim’s bare arms, the scrape of denim against his sensitized skin almost overwhelming.

“This isn’t our first date,” Jim told him mildly, and Leonard’s question died in a gurgle when Jim dragged his briefs down, stroking him with excruciating slowness. “Remember?”

“What?”

“The office,” Jim exclaimed, pouting dramatically, and pulled his hand away. Leonard released a distressed meep when Jim stepped away, his heart racing anxiously, then he saw that Jim was only kicking off his own pants and shoes, leaving him naked in the dim moonlight from the window. “You don’t count that as a date?”

“N-No?” Leonard stuttered, and Jim grinned before tugging him across the room to the bed.

He prepped Leonard quickly, efficiently, as if impatient to get to the main act, and Leonard honestly couldn’t find it in him to complain. He arched back into Jim’s fingers, gripping at the top of the mattress, and spread his legs eagerly when Jim shuffled forward, flushed and panting and rolling on a condom with shaking fingers. “You sure?” he murmured, running his hands down Leonard’s thighs.

Leonard tsked in frustration, lifting his hips off the bed, and tipped his chin defiantly. “ _Fuck_ me.”

Jim made a strangled noise, and he surged forward, pushing Leonard’s legs towards his chest, dipping down low to fuck his tongue into Leonard’s mouth.

Leonard gasped when he felt the head of Jim’s cock press against him, teasing at the rim, and when he pushed inside, something in him broke free and raged for more. It’d been long, so long, and he relished in the burn of the stretch, the way Jim’s cock felt pressing deep inside, hot, burning—

“More,” Leonard rasped, thrusting back against Jim. It was clumsy, out of practice, and he tried to manage it anyway, reaching down to grasp Jim’s hips and pull him in deeper.

Jim shuddered violently, bracketing Leonard’s head with his arms and kissing him hungrily, his thrusts slow and deep and maddeningly careful. It was good, so good, but still lacking—lacking _something_ , and Leonard whined in frustration.

“W-What?” Jim muttered, brow furrowed, sweat dripping down the side of his face, and Leonard leaned up to lick it off without thinking.

“Like you _mean_ it,” Leonard demanded, letting his head fall back on his pillow, and Jim groaned faintly.

“Bossy,” he panted, grinning. “I like it.” He bowed his back and slammed harder into Leonard, with enough force to send sparks fizzling back Leonard’s spine and white flickering behind his eyes, but it wasn’t _enough_.

Leonard groaned in frustration and shoved hard at Jim’s shoulder, twisting his hips as he did so, and Jim yelped in surprise as Leonard flipped them over, Jim’s cock still buried inside him. The change in angle shoved him down farther, Jim’s cock reaching deep enough to press against his prostate without thrusting, and Leonard inhaled sharply, his fingers digging into Jim’s shoulders. “Fuck,” he grunted, trying to claw some control back, to settle down the tremors in his abdomen and thighs.

“Holy mother of fuck,” Jim agreed dazedly, and Leonard made a mental note to remind him of that later. “Bones, what’re you—”

“I told you,” Leonard interrupted, “to fuck me.” He made sure Jim was looking him straight in the eye before rolling his hips pointedly. “Like you meant it.” He lifted up on his knees and slammed down again, watching Jim’s face, feeling himself get impossibly harder at the _look_ on Jim’s face.

“Oh my God,” Jim said, and he reached up to grip Leonard’s forearms, squeezing hard enough to hurt if Leonard could feel anything right now except complete and devastating pleasure. “Oh fuck, yeah, Bones. Like that.”

Leonard started moving faster, not planning on playing around, gripping Jim’s ribs tight between his knees and fucking himself on Jim’s thick length, gasping every time his prostate was grazed, trying to focus on the grounding points of Jim’s fingers around his arms. “Fuck, Jim,” he whimpered, trying to pull one hand away to stroke himself, his cock so full that it almost hurt. “I need—I have to—”

“Nuh uh.” Jim shook his head, and he bucked up hard, rolling them over again, Leonard crying out as Jim slammed back into him hard even before he stopped bouncing. Finally, _finally_ , Jim held him tight and fucked him, his mouth dragging roughly over Leonard’s jaw, biting a line of marks down his neck and shoulders. There wasn’t anything sweet about it, anything soft and gentle, and they’d have time for that later, Leonard realized with a thrill. They could do it all.

He came without a hand on his cock, coming messily all over himself and striping Jim’s stomach, a bit of it hitting his chin, and Jim looked delighted as Leonard flushed and tried to wipe it away with shaking hands. Jim was still hard inside him, and he pulled out before Leonard could tell him otherwise, stripping the condom away and stroking himself quickly, impatiently.

“No,” Leonard blurted, and he sat up, pressing a hand to Jim’s shoulder and pulling his hand away. “Fuck, Jim, let me.” He dropped to his belly before Jim could protest, pushing Jim’s legs apart and swallowing Jim’s cock down.

“Oh God.” Jim’s hands dropped down to grip Leonard’s head, fingers twining in his hair without pulling. “Fuck yeah, Bones.”

Leonard groaned at Jim’s taste, sharp and heavy on his tongue, and it was so fucking good that he thought he could do this for hours, just lie here and suck Jim and bring him to the edge over and over. But they were both too far gone for that, and it didn’t take long with him sucking at Jim’s head, fisting at the base of his cock, before Jim’s cock jerked in his mouth, his fingers digging almost painfully into Leonard’s scalp as he came in heavy spurts over Leonard’s tongue.

“Bones,” Jim moaned, when Leonard slid his mouth down over Jim’s shaft again and swallowed him down. Leonard paused, waiting for the second Jim’s pleasure ebbed, when his body began shaking from the tremors of his orgasm, then sucked hard again, yanking Jim back over the edge of another climax. Jim swore and shuddered hard, one last weak dribble of come leaking from his cock, and Leonard pulled off slowly, licking at the head of Jim’s cock just to watch him twitch from oversensitivity.

“You swallowed,” Jim said hoarsely, when Leonard sat back and wiped the back of his hand over his swollen lips.

“Mm.” Leonard glanced at him, wondering at Jim’s tone, and grunted in surprise when Jim all but tackled him back against the mattress, kissing the taste of himself from Leonard’s tongue.

“Fucking _hot_ ,” Jim told him between breathless kisses. They were both sticky and quite frankly, disgusting, but Leonard couldn’t be half bothered even when Jim wiped them off with a corner of the sheet and flopped down beside him on his stomach.

“Don’t remember askin’ you t’stay,” Leonard mumbled, already half asleep, and Jim raised his head in alarm.

“Should I—”

“No, dumbass.” Leonard reached out and wrapped an arm around Jim’s waist, keeping him from doing something stupid like get out of bed. “Don’t go anywhere.”

............

Leonard woke to the feeling of someone watching him, the back of his neck and shoulders prickling, and groaned faintly, rolling over onto his back. Jim’s eyes were eerily bright in the darkness, his cheek propped in one hand as he blinked down at Leonard, clearly surprised at having been caught.

“Go back t’sleep, Bones.”

Leonard squints up at him, half tempted to do just that, then reached up and poked at Jim’s chin. “Why aren’t _you_.”

Jim dipped his head and kissed Leonard’s finger, his mouth twisting wryly. “Just thinking.”

“Hmm?” Leonard murmured drowsily. He reached up, sliding his hand around the back of Jim’s neck and trying to pull him down in a kiss.

Instead, Jim caught his hand, pressing his mouth thoughtfully to Leonard’s knuckles before glancing down at him. “Please don’t hit me.”

Leonard frowned at him, more awake now. He extended his fingers, tickling at Jim’s cheek. “Why would I hit you?”

“Dunno,” Jim said evasively. “Just… you didn’t seem keen on talking about this before.”

Leonard raised his eyebrows and folded an arm beneath his head, propping himself up higher. “I was busy putting my mouth to other uses, kid,” he said, and was rewarded by a patchy blush down Jim’s face.

“Hey, I’m trying to be serious.”

“Okay,” Leonard said, and he reached out and touched Jim with his fingertips again. It seemed like he couldn’t stop touching him anymore, not after he gave in at the theatre, and maybe they were headed this way all along. “Okay, let’s talk.” He rolled over on his side, feeling Jim’s legs tangling with his. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jim despaired, like it was the worst thing in the world. “Nothing’s wrong. God, Bones, tonight… tonight was the best night of my life.”

“The movie wasn’t _that_ great.”

“Because of you,” Jim amended. “And I know… I know you don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but I _want_ to.” He stared down at Leonard earnestly.

“I’d be willing to try,” Jim said firmly. “For this. For us.” His thumb brushed across Leonard’s lip, and Leonard turned his head to chase after it unthinkingly. “What about you, Bones?”

Leonard took a deep breath, and he looked Jim straight on, catching Jim’s hand and squeezing it. “I’m game if you are, kid.”

Jim blinked, then smiled, a shaky thing at first until it grew, and he leaned down to kiss Leonard. It was a slow kiss, a sweet one, something they hadn’t had before, and Leonard liked it maybe a little more than he should have. They were both slightly breathless at the end of it, Jim half sprawled over Leonard’s torso, and Leonard reached up to ruffle Jim’s hair affectionately.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured, and Jim nodded wordlessly, curling up where he lay and slotting his head beneath Leonard’s head. It was Leonard’s first time seeing him like this, so vulnerable and so overly _young_ , and he sighed wearily, running his fingers through Jim’s hair. “Hey, kid,” he slurred  after a moment, only to be answered with a quiet snore.

 _God, he’s adorable_ , was Leonard’s last coherent thought.

............

Leonard took one look at Spock’s poker face and came clean immediately “I didn’t mean to,” he said, holding his hands up defensively. “So drink your tea and don’t judge.”

Spock looked at him, drank his tea, and set his cup back down. “I trust that it went well, then,” he said blandly, and Leonard scowled at him.

“Something like that,” he said, and tried to avoid shifting the weight off his sore ass. “Guess I never thanked you,” he said gruffly. “For the advice.”

“Are you thanking me now?” Spock’s eyebrows rose predictably, and Leonard grimaced.

“I’m _trying_ to, if you’d just—”

The door opened and Spock’s TA peered in, a sheaf of papers beneath her arm. “Dr. Spock? I have the copies you asked for.”

“Thank you, Nyota,” Spock said primly, looking up at her as she set the copies down in front of him, and there was something in his face, a certain softening…

" _No_ ," Leonard said, aghast, as soon as the door closed behind Uhura’s red heels.

"Pardon?" the bastard had the nerve to ask calmly, picking up the copies and straightening them needlessly.

"Un _believ_ able.” Leonard threw his hands up, still reeling in shock.

Spock peered at him severely. "This is a gross overreaction, Dr. McCoy."

”But,” Leonard spluttered, wondering how the hell Spock expected him to react, if not like this. " _You_? And-- and your _TA_?”

“Ms. Uhura is a singularly driven young woman,” Spock answered, stirring his tea serenely. “Therefore, when she… showed initiative, I did not find it an easy battle to fight.” He raised his tea cup to his lips, eyeing Leonard with some degree of smugness. “I suspect it was much the same with your Mr. Kirk.”

Leonard took a breath, ready to argue to the contrary, then hesitated, Spock’s words lingering in his mind. “My Mr. Kirk, huh?” he murmured, unable to keep from smiling down at the table. “Has a nice sound to it.”

 


End file.
